


What to call it

by SherlockWolf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Ramblings, based on an edit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 01:49:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13020714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockWolf/pseuds/SherlockWolf
Summary: A scene in which a man is afraid to tell an angel the truth.





	What to call it

**Author's Note:**

> based on a fanvid i can't find for the life of me so if you come across it (youtube) let me know

“I don’t know what to call it.” Dean shrugged, exasperated at trying to explain himself to the angel.

Cas sighed with equal frustration.

“Fine. Then don’t call it anything, if that’s what you want.” He snapped, hurt that Dean wouldn’t admit the truth. He gripped the back of the nearest chair with both hands white-knuckled. If he left an indent he’d fix it later.

“Cas.” Dean said his name sharply, and the angel moved his glare from the war table to where Dean was sitting across the table from where the angel stood.

“All I’m saying is that you’re my weak spot. You are. And I’m yours.”

Dean’s face was sincere and he was sure in his statements. At least he knew where they both stood on the issue. Cas didn’t know how to respond, though. It was true, but it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He wanted Dean to admit something else, something more profound. But the man was being as stubborn as always.

“Can I tell you something, between you and me?” Dean asked. His voice was becoming more vulnerable, and it caught Cas’ attention. Maybe he was going to say it.

“Of course.”

“After our little, uh, experiments,”

Cas gave him an offended glower at the word and its dismissive implication, but Dean continued speaking so Cas let him finish,

“For that whole year, I felt like I had this hole in my gut. Like I was missing something. I didn’t know what.”

Dean paused, his eyes boring into Cas’. Cas could tell that Dean had figured it out. He knew exactly what the cause of his pain was. Cas did, too. But he needed to hear it.

“But you know what it was? It was you.”

This didn’t do anything to abate Cas’ frustration with Dean. It was as if the man was finding every way to implicate his meaning that he possibly could without having to actually say it.

“I don’t understand.” Cas hissed through gritted teeth, anger giving way to hurt. It must have been evident in his voice, because Dean winced.

“I’m afraid to name it, Cas.” Dean blurted, hands gesturing in a sign of defeat.

And it made sense. Pieces clicked into place, lightbulbs flicked on. Dean Winchester was afraid to love Castiel. Because if he admitted it to anyone, even the angel himself, that knowledge could be used against him. Though, Cas knew it didn’t matter at this point. Their love had been used against them more than enough without either of them having owned up to it. And it _was_ scary. Because losing one another hurt something awful. But if they knew, if they _both_ owned up to it, they’d at least be _happy._

“I’m scared of the same things you are, Dean. But that doesn’t change the fact that _I love you_.” Cas told him, emphasizing the words he was waiting to hear so that Dean would get it.

“No, it doesn’t change.” Dean agreed, though it was clear he was referring to something other than Cas’ love.

Dean was so close, it was torture. Cas had to let go of the chair lest he actually break it.

“Cas.”

Dean let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Come here.”

As Cas walked around the table, Dean stood. They met each other halfway, and Dean pulled Cas into a hug. Reluctantly, the angel put his arms around Dean’s waist. Dean hid his face in the crook of Cas’ neck, and the man’s breath and hair tickled his skin.

Dean pressed a soft kiss against Cas’ neck, and the angel felt a rush at the sensation.

“I love you, Cas. You know I do.” Dean whispered.

And finally Cas could feel it, just as he felt everything Dean ever felt. The longing, the loneliness, the need. Finally, the love. Cas felt it all. And it was infectious. Dean’s love was _infectious._ Cas couldn’t get away from it no matter how hard he tried, and _God_ had he tried. And given up. Because at the end of the day he needed Dean like his lungs needed air.

“Thank you.”


End file.
